The Slytherins' Dilemma
by Kalyla
Summary: Everyone knows what love is; some simply haven't experienced it. To someone who doesn't know its riddles and turntables, it can be a tricky thing. Out of two Slytherins with two seperate stories, who will Fate favor as the one who gets a happy ending?
1. The Voice Which Speaks the Truth

**Alrighty everyone! After a long absence, I've decided that I need to take things slowly. Slowly as in not pushing myself to do full-on stories which never seems to work. So why not do some short stories? And I figure, hey! I love me a good romance, so why not do some romance? Then I thought again, hey! I've been thinking of a certain Draco Malfoy for a while, but I also like messing with poor Tom Riddle's mind, so why not do a Harry Potter fanfic? **

**Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Tom, Draco, Tom, Draco…. How about both? Hehe… this should be fun.**

**Draco: You're bloody insane.**

**Me: Your point?**

**Tom: I don't want you to write a story with me! You'll probably make me kiss a filthy Mudblood-**

**Draco: I second that notion!**

**Tom: AVADA KEDAVRA!**

**~silence~**

**Me: *chuckles condescendingly* Oh Tommy… you should know that you can't kill a writer! We rule the world!**

**Draco & Tom: Bugger.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Riddle or the voice which speaks the truth.**

_Tom's Story: Love's Riddle._

Tom Riddle stalked the halls of Hogwarts after dark, on Prefect duty. He loved hunting for students who thought they could out smart him. Him! Mostly daring younger years, trying to create memories. Trying to make friends.

But Tom knew there was no such thing. As friends, anyway. There was no such thing as friendship, or love, or any of those other useless, _distracting _things that idiot Dumbledore talked about. There was only cold power, the ability to manipulate, and the ability to instill fear of that power and manipulation until _you _were always in control. _Control. _That was the key. Not love.

Those two words kept echoing in his now-silent mind. _Not love. Not love. _He would never have love because it did not exist. There were boys he overheard all the time, claiming he and a sweetheart were going to get married and that they were in _love. _Fools, all of them. Acting as if they took regular doses of a certain very strong love potion. It _did not exist._

Lust was a different thing. It was quite real, and he had determined to stay clear of it because of the obvious brain-washing effects. Lust was the real enemy. Not love. Just lust.

But there was that voice. That voice that had somehow penetrated his undeniable logic. A little taunting sing-song voice that always sounded like it knew more than he did. It made him feel something he had never felt that he could only describe as _fear. _He did not like that word, and he did not like accepting that _maybe _he felt it. So he tried to push that tantalizing voice away, but it always came back for him, saying the same thing.

_You're over looking something, Tom. Tut tut. How do you expect to overcome something which you deny to see?_

There is nothing _too _see! It is not real! A myth, a wishful story.

_You know you're wrong. There's something to this love thing. You want to investigate it. You want to understand it. But you're too afraid…_

"Shut UP, dammit! Dash it all, just shut the bloody Hell up!" He slammed his fist into the stone wall he'd been unconsciously walking by. Concentrating on the pain throbbing in his hand, he tried to forget, to ignore…

No matter how hard he tried however, his mind kept replaying that laugh. Her laugh. It was… capturing. It made him want to hear it more and more, but he didn't know how to get it. He didn't know how to _make _her laugh with him. After all, control was caused by instilling fear, and fear generally did not make people laugh.

_She might though, _he thought grimly. _She might laugh at fear. It'd be her typical way of proving me wrong._

Sighing in defeat, he sank against the stone wall and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to remember the previous night duty. He did not usually give in this quickly to his wants, but he was doing many strange things since that night. He had to ask the voice, he had to wonder… what if he had known what was going to happen during that seemingly-normal night duty? Would he still have done everything the same?

_You know the answer, Tommy. You may love being in control, but you like being powerless too._

_Tom ignored that last part, and delved into that still-fresh memory, hoping that it would satisfy him and he could go back to normal afterwards. _

_And as that hope crossed his mind, he got the distinct feeling that the little voice was laughing at him._


	2. Love's Riddle

**Me: Yay for Chapter Two! Aren't you excited, Tom? This is the thick of your romance!**

**Tom: *growls* *disappears***

**Me: Tom? Tooommmy... where'd you - oh!**

**Tom: *reappears with Basilisk* EAT BASILISK VENOM!**

**Me: *sigh* You never learn. *whistles to Basilisk* Come here, Fluffy! Come here! Who's a good Basilisk? You are! *scratches Basilisk on the nose***

**Tom: *facepalm***

**Disclaimer: Do not own Tom (execpt in my own mind), Amortentia, Tom's weird thinking, or lovey dovey-ness. Of course, I DO own Melany, her Tree and her blossoms. So NO TOUCHEY!**

_Tom's Story: Love's Riddle_

Tom had, again, been walking the halls on Prefect duty. The sharp click of his well-kept shoes echoed through the halls. On this particular walk he encountered a Third year couple, who blanched and ran when they saw him. Riddle smirked, but was not surprised.

He had mastered the technique of intimidation. Of course, he hadn't always had his reputation. Tom had earned every scrap of it. It started with the walk that was now second nature. The impressive balance between a confident stride and a lethal stalk. It captured people's attention, made them clear the way, as if he was royalty. Then the air that made people _feel _that he was more mysterious and possibly more dangerous than even the pompous Malfoy family. It made people look away before he did, made them obey his commands. It let them know that he was greater than they, and he never dropped it.

Well, _almost _never dropped it.

So Tom was stalking down a hall that was filled with unused classrooms (rumored to be haunted) when an odd sound reached his ears. He stopped in his tracks and cocked his head to listen. It was… music. Singing, actually. Somewhere behind him, perhaps just around the corner.

He contemplated his next move. Did he really care enough to go investigate? On the other hand, he _was _a Prefect on duty, and it was almost curfew. No one should be wandering the halls, much less singing in them. Then there was always the fact that if it wasn't a Slytherin (highly likely; Slytherins don't typically sing in empty castle halls) he would have the chance of deducting points from another House. (Hopefully Goody-Goody Gryffindor).

His lip curled in a leer as he considered further. Of course, if it happened to be a Mudblood…well, he hadn't had fun in a while.

Thus decided, Tom turned on his heel and strode purposefully in the opposite direction. He listened to the voice as it got steadily louder, and realized that she - the voice was undeniably feminine - wasn't just singing. In fact, it was more like she was singing to herself, really. Not really caring what she sounded like or if she hit the right notes. She would laugh in between verses, lapse into silence, start humming again, then singing. Once or twice she tried to hit a high note, and laughed at herself when it sounded shaky. She had a pretty voice, even though it was not really amazing. She was switching from song to song, seemingly at random, but what she was singing at the moment was a lullaby that obviously fit her voice very well.

He came to an intersection, and he went right. He was almost on her now, but he didn't see anyone in the halls. She must've been in one of the rooms.

Tom slowed his brisk walk to quiet creeping, zeroing in on the room the voice was coming from.

The mystery girl inside gave a contented sigh and began humming a tune. She really did have a pretty voice. It would probably be even better if she took it seriously…

Tom shook his head and stood straight, arranging his face in his stony mask that no one could penetrate. He turned the knob of the door and pushed it open, but was so shocked at what he saw that, behind his mask, he was gaping.

A straight-haired brunette had her back to him, humming and waving her wand around like a conductor's wand. Her black school robes (bearing the emblem and colors of Ravenclaw) were discarded to the left of the door, as were her sock and shoes. She was standing bear foot, tapping her feet and orchestrating some magic that he'd never seen the like before.

In front of the girl was… a shimmering golden tree. She was dancing around it and laughing and humming, waving her wand in symbols that made it grow, or made it shimmer, or even made it emit a melody from a blossoming flower. It was golden and semi-transparent, like sunlight compacted into one space. The room was bathed in it's sunny glow like it was daylight and multiple windows were open… except it was dark outside, and though the classroom had no windows, the ceiling was charmed to like the outdoors world.

As she laughed again and twirled her wand, the tree stretched and shivered as if waking from sleep. It began moving its limbs slowly and fluidly, as if it were dancing with her. As she was dancing he saw her face, and noted that she was in his Arithmancy, Potions, and Transfiguration class. She was also very intelligent, even for Ravenclaw standards. It wasn't just her book smarts either. Even he had noticed out of the corner of his eye the wise and understanding look that often took over her face when she was talking to someone. Or the way she conducted herself when she conversed with the teachers. She spoke to them as if she considered them equals, and at the same time did not lack a student's respect. He also noticed that she always smiled the brightest and her eyes always shone the most in Transfigurations - Dumbledore's class.

So distracted was he in observing the room and reminding himself of her character that he allowed himself to be seen.

"Oh!" she momentarily stopped in her magic making, and the tree suddenly stood still and seemed to wonder why her attention was no longer on it. "Hullo."

Tom grimaced inwards, but his face was still stony to the girl. One may wonder why he was not happy that he had been seen, since it was his goal after all to speak to (and deduct house points from) her. The reasoning behind Tom Riddle's plan was to _make _her see him, so that _she _and _only _she was caught off guard. So in an instance where he had counted on having the upper hand, he was now on equal terms of shock with his prey.

He decided not to answer her greeting and cut to the chase.

"You do realize that it is now past curfew, Miss Piper?" he drawled, fixing her with his penetratingly cold stare.

It took a moment for her to respond, but when she did, it was a completely unexpected one. Her face broke out into a bright smile.

"It's alright, Tom," she answered, speaking as if she knew him well. It annoyed him immediately.

"I have permis - ,"

"First of all I insist you call me by my surname as I am a Prefect. Secondly, do you have written proof of your _permission?" _he sneered, cutting her off effectively.

She stared at him in surprise at his evident chillness, but regained herself in a moment. Pulling a piece of parchment with Headmaster Dupit's handwriting on it, she stepped toward him. After handing the slip to him, she retreated a step and her smile returned.

"As I was saying, Mr. _Riddle, _I have permission from the Headmaster. This," she gestured proudly to the golden tree, which in answer shuffled it's branches as if to preen itself, "This is my project. Isn't it amazing? I'm not exactly sure what to call it though…"

She trailed off, staring at what appeared to be her own creation. Tom hated to admit it, but he was impressed. It must have taken some upper-class talent of magic to make something so incredible.

He found himself asking, perhaps trying to sound haughty, "And what is it supposed to do?"

Piper put her hand on her chin, looking thoughtfully at her tree.

"You know, I'm not quite sure. For me, it just makes me happy and open. I think it has a different effect on everyone. It will be perfect for the job I have…" she paused, then continued with a fresh smile, "Hold on for a second."

Piper sauntered back over to her creation, and as she approached the tree seemed to have an excited air about it. She began to hum quietly again, and she waved her wand in wide swoops. At once the tree began to shiver, and he could have sworn he heard it humming back. It seemed to imitate Piper by waving its branches in arches. Tom wasn't sure what was so special until the tree began to erupt in leaves and flowers, filling it with color and a new brightness. The leaves were like none he had ever seen; some were golden with red-gold undersides, some were vibrant green with golden veins and edges; the flowers were delicate looking and beautiful, pink with red tips, or cream and yellow. It continued to wave its branches so that the lush growth made a _shush_ing noise. Piper laughed again and put her hands up to catch petals and leaves that were gracefully floating and falling off the tree's branches.

"Isn't that wonderful! I think she's complete now." she smiled, satisfied, and placed her hands on her hip.

It took Tom a moment to get used to the smell of blossoms that had spread throughout the room. It made him feel… odd. Like he just wanted to close his eyes and forget all his worries, all the daily games he played with peoples' minds. He just wanted to forget and bask in the tree's sunlight and the smell of spring.

But the feeling faded in a moment when he realized that he was still in the presence of this strange witch. It occurred to him that he didn't know if she was a Mudblood or not. He tried to think again, looking for something in what little she had said to him that would give him some leverage on her. After a few moments of pretending to be enraptured with the tree (or only half-pretending), he remembered something.

"You said that this tree would be perfect for your job. What exactly did you mean by that?" he asked, sounding as unaffected as possible. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing he had.

She smiled fondly at the tree again, which seemed to be growing brighter and more solid-looking. She turned her face to him and seemed to inspect him for a few moments. There was a glint in her eye that he had rarely seen directed at him before - a kind of mischievous glint. Suddenly, she skip-stepped towards him, and it took all his will power not to jerk away or betray his surprise. Leaning towards him, she whispered.

"It's supposed to be a secret, but for some reason I want to tell you," she tapped her nose twice, "Professor Dumbledore helped me convince Headmaster Dupit to give me a teaching job after graduation. But!-" Piper smiled conspiringly, "Not just any teaching job, either. I'm going to be Professor of the Fine Arts of Magic."

Tom blinked once, somewhat confused. What was special about the Fine Arts? In that case, what exactly _were _they?

Piper smiled kindly, and took one step back. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. The smell of her shampoo had begun to waft under his nose, and it made him strangely uncomfortable. He didn't dwell on the fact.

The playful mischief was gone from her eyes, replaced by sparkling kindness.

"I can see that you're puzzled. Well, I think I can solve this."

And without warning she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the tree. After whistling a quick tune, branches snaked their way down like vines and wrapped around them, swiftly pulling them into the heart of the tree. Tom was shocked, and also found himself amazed that the tree was solid enough to touch. He half expected himself to fall through it. But he only felt the strange sense of being completely secure and… something else. Joy? No, that was when he triumphed and got his way. Happiness? He didn't think so…

But he ceased to contemplate when he felt something, almost like a presence, sinking into him. It was calming and…

_Loving, _a voice whispered in his mind. _Loving…_

Loving? That was impossible. There was no such thing…

Then a strange sort of music filled his mind, and it chased his thoughts away once more. He found that he couldn't resist closing his eyes, even though he knew he shouldn't let this girl see behind his mask. Even still, he was glad he did. Colors swirled and burst in his mind's eye, blooming and sparkling and _breathtaking. _The colors and figures formed and danced in time to the music that was playing in his head. Different textures, different blends of hues, scenes so serene and lovely forming just for him. He'd never experienced something like this, and he wished it would never stop. He could listen to that tree's music forever and not worry about his revenge against his father or proving Dumbledore wrong…

Alas, he was startled, opening his eyes when he felt something soft brush his face. They were the petals, soft and enchanting, twining through the air like a first snow. Through a curtain of them he stared at Melany Piper, who had her eyes closed, a beaming smile on her lips, face uplifted and arms raised above her head as if to embrace the wonders of the that magnificent Tree.

A very strange thing happened at that moment. Tom Riddle laughed. It began as a disbelieving chuckle and slowly progressed into a full on _laugh. _There was a part of his mind that was screaming at him that he was insane and that he needed to erase this girl's memory _right now _and simply forget that this night ever happened. But that voice was drowned out by the lilting tunes of the Tree and Melany's laughter combined with his. Even the Tree seemed to be laughing, a tinkling sound like bells. Melany looked across at Tom, her eyes wide and surprised, and her mouth still grinning. She laughed once more, and he suddenly had the sensation of being connected to her somehow. Something clicked into place and he realized a strange urge that he'd never experienced before.

_Kiss her. _It was the Tree's voice, whispering in his mind. Kiss her? He couldn't. He barely knew her. It was irrational…

But the Tree had other ideas. Those magical branches suddenly gave a lurch, pushing him toward that amazing girl. He barely caught himself, one of his hands instinctively grabbing a branch just behind the girl's head. The other hand landed somewhere closer to her waist.

Tom sucked in a breath and impulsively looked at Melany's face to gauge her reaction. She looked just as surprised as he did, but her pink lips were separated and there was a new sparkle in her eyes…

That was when Tom Riddle, the boy who didn't believe in love, took the Tree's advice. He leaned in and softly captured Melany Piper's lips with his.

He was overwhelmed with new emotion. His heart was beating furiously and the heat rushed to his head. The hand that had previously been by the girl's waist now found its way to her neck, cradling the back of her head and bringing her closer. Her lips under his responded with their own pressure, and he was so stunned by this that he drew back a little. Yet, when he drew back, she came forward, and continued the sweet kiss. He found that his eyes closed by themselves, almost as if his body knew more about this than his mind did (which was probably true). Tom felt Melany's hands rest on his chest, and was astounded for the hundredth time that evening when he didn't care if she felt his heartbeat. Then again, maybe it was because hers was just as fast as his.

A moment later, and a moment too soon they parted and he slowly opened his eyes. The blossom petals were still falling, decorating this remarkable girl with the remarkableness of her Tree. As her own eyes blinked open and a tentative smile formed on her kissed lips, Tom found that he felt as though he were soaring. He grinned and felt like laughing, and he had forgotten all about the old stony Tom Riddle. Even as he embraced the girl in front of him, taking in the scent of blossoms and her shampoo which had somehow made him uncomfortable earlier, he knew that if he were to make Amortentia the next day in potions it would be _that _smell.

But then a clock _gong_ed Twelve somewhere in the castle, and just like in any fairy tale, the spell was broken. Somewhat. She still smiled at him, even as he told her that he should be getting back to the Slytherin Tower. The Tree was still as gentle as ever in letting them down, and their fingers were curled around each other all the way to the classroom door. Melany gave him a shy smile and pecked him on the cheek before he left, and he promised to see her tomorrow. As he was walking back to the Slytherin Boy's Dormitory, he found it funnily ironic how this love thing... it seemed like such a riddle. Riddle's Love Riddle. He smirked and touched his lips. A riddle indeed.

It was the end of that magical night, and even though he fell asleep with a smile on his face, in the morning the old Tom Riddle was waiting. He did _not _see Melany the next day, or at least did not in the way that he'd meant. He ignored her for every smile she gave him and every meaningful look. He walked fast in the corridors, especially whenever he passed a group of Ravenclaws. His scowl was deeper than ever and the boys he usually gathered around him stayed clear of him all day. Tom Riddle may have been fooled once into believing in love, but he would not again.

Still, even though he had told himself that love did not exist, chanting it in his head like a mantra, he made sure to steer clear of a certain room with a certain Tree, where the blossoms were light and lovely.


	3. A Wreath of Cornflowers

**Heya everyone! I must say, when Tom and I looked at the number of reviews vs. number of hits, we were quite disappointed.**

**Tom: Leave me out of this.**

**Me: *ignoring Tom* When I also took into account that the 1 review I got was from a friend, we were even more depressed.**

**Tom: I am NOT depressed!**

**Me: So stop making our favorite Slytherin bad boy depressed! You should all be ashamed of yourselves!**

**Draco: *appears* Wait, favorite Slytherin bad boy? What about me! I'm a Slytherin bad boy!**

**Me: Hmm…. Sounds like a vote is in order! Who's the Favorite Slytherin Bad-Boy? Draco Malfoy vs. Tom Riddle. Vote for yours, and enjoy the chapter!**

_Tom's Story: Love's Riddle_

And so we are brought to the present, where a certain Tom Riddle is sitting on the cold stone floor and leaning against the cold stone wall of the Hogwarts castle. He was very wrong in his assumption, by the way; delving in his memories did not satisfy him in the least. Simutaneously he was kicking himself for being such an idiotic fool, and kicking himself for not pursuing the girl named Melany Piper.

She probably hates me now, thought Tom. This fact made him more melancholy than he would like to admit.

_You'd be surprised how forgiving people can be when they find a spark of love. _

It was that damn voice again. It reminded him of the Tree's voice, only it was more… familiar. As if the Tree had awoken something inside of him that was just as wise. The thought gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach. Now he could be subject to it's words anywhere at anytime, no matter what he was doing…

_Nonsense, Tom. If I didn't think that you were holding yourself back, the only voice in your head right now would be your own._

What is _that _supposed to mean?, he growled back at it.

Simply that I know what you truly want. You don't want to forget her. You don't want to ignore her. And I'm here to give you a push, no matter how much you loath it.

Tom was silent for a moment, finding himself unable to truthfully oppose the voice. So, he changed the subject indirectly.

You said that in other circumstances, the only voice in my head right now would be my own. Does that mean that you really are coming from someone or something else?

_Not necessarily. I really just don't think of us as the same person because you locked me away for so much of your life. You don't even know what I am, do you?_

Tom was stunned. Did he really have another person - maybe another personaliy? - in his head? Was he insane?

He asked the voice what it meant.

_I'm what most people think to be called their conscience. I prefer the term Inner Voice myself, it just sounds more official._

Tom was bewildered. He didn't know what to think. According to the voice - or _Inner _Voice, he should say - he was not insane. In fact, it sounded like everyone had one of these.

_That is only partly true; everyone has an Inner Voice, but whether they choose to listen is entirely up to them. You, Tom Riddle, have ignored me since the day you became aware of your surroundings. You did not react well with the orphanage. When you were a tot you listened fine, though you were still a little somber. _

Silence followed in his mind once again. He didn't want to think about the orphanage, or his weak mother, or his disgusting, muggle father. He had surpassed them all. He was the Heir of Slytherin, and was too important to be bothered with the vulgarity of Muggles.

_That girl opened you up. Well, her and her Tree. That Tree is actually her way of embodying her Inner Voice, which is why I was unleashed. She's good for you, Tom. All you need to do is accept her._

Tom frowned and briefly wondered how one shuts up their Inner Voice or conscience or whatever it was. It said that he'd locked it away… how to reaccomplish that…

_You know you don't really want me to go away. If nothing else, you're fascinated. _

Tom felt his lip twitch. It _was _an interesting development…

So, he thought. Melany's Tree unlocked you? I guess I'm not surprised by that. It was an…_altering _experience.

I miss it. I miss her.

The boy felt a heavy weight begin to close in on his chest, and he put his head down on his knees. This was a familiar feeling to him, but he realized now that it was not fully welcome. That night with Melany had made it disappear, and for some reason he felt like screaming at it to go away. All he wanted now was that laugh…

_This is called sadness, Tom. Sadness, anger, helplessness… many things that you've experienced before but thought normal. Now that you've experience the brightest feeling of all - love - you know what you're missing out on._

Tom's first response was to deny that love existed, but he wasn't so sure anymore.

But how _can _it be love?, Tom argued half-heartedly. Isn't love supposed to happen slowly or some rubbish like that?

_No all the time. You see, my dear Tom, there are different kinds of love all around us. Even before Melany you have experienced love. It was a love for yourself, love for power, and though it was a self-destructive love, it was love all the same. It is not all brightness, I will warn you. Love is as vast as the ocean and twice as deep._

That doesn't exactly answer my question. Stop being poetic and get to the point.

He sense the voice sigh.

_In other words, there is the type of love that you mentioned; the kind that takes a while to grow but is that much harder to kill. Yours was a little more… spontaneous. You felt an almost instant connection with this girl, and to keep hold of it, it needs to be nourished. She has a very understanding heart, Tom. But no one can wait forever._

Tom understood what it was saying, but he didn't know what to do about it. He raked is hand through well-kept hair.

What am I going to do? What _can _I do? I don't know if this is possible for me…

_Anything is possible, given the right nudge, _the voice whispered consolingly.

"Tom?" a feminine voice made his head jerk up in surprise. He was going to growl at whoever-it-was to leave before he took fifty points from their house, until he registered Melany's voice.

He was frozen in an instant, unable to move his eyes from her face. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes concerned. He noted that she looked entirely different in her school robes, as if she were a normal student. But she's _not _normal, he thought. She's… amazing.

"Are you alright?" her voice had hinted tones of alarm, and it hit him what a sight he must have been hunched with his knees near his chest against a dirty stone wall. Must've looked as if he'd had a breakdown…

Which, now that he thought about it, wasn't all _that _far from the truth.

"Erm…" it took his brain a moment to go through the process of producing intelligible words, "Yes. Yes, I'm… fine."

Melany looked relieved, but still curious. There was a silence.

Tom cleared his throat, feeling as though he was about to suffocate. He had to say something quick or she'd loose interest and walk away! His instincts told him so.

The voice chuckled. _I thought this day would never come! _My _Tom Riddle, stammering in front of a girl. I'm so proud._

Tom felt heat rush to his cheeks, but he said nothing. Finally averting his eyes from Melany, he cleared his throat again.

"And you? I mean… how are you?"

She gave a nervous little smile, "I'm fine, thanks. But…" she suddenly kneeled down next to him, and he felt the brush of cool fingers on his forehead.

"…are you sure you're okay? You look like you have a fever. Is that why you wouldn't talk to me today?" her voice was ultimately curious and worried, but he could have sworn he detected hurt in the last sentence. He swallowed hard, and felt the blood rush to his face again, this time from shame.

_Oooh, she's got you cornered now, Tommy boy._

"_Shut up!" _he hissed, noticing a moment too late that he'd spoken aloud. He mentally smacked himself on the forehead.

Melany's eyebrows shot up, utterly taken aback.

"_Excuse _me? Honestly, Tom, I was only trying to help -"

"No, not you! I just… I wasn't…" Tom shot to his feet, all of the sudden unable to meet the witch's eye. Melany gave a yelp when the rapid movement knocked her back so that she fell on her elbows. She looked at him as if his wand was growing out of his ear.

"I just…I'm sorry…" he stalled, eyes darting about everywhere but her, "I think… I need to go to the Infirmary!" With that he turned away from her and made haste in the opposite direction… not gathering that he was moving _away _from the Infirmary.

"Wait!" he heard her scramble to get up, her hurried steps toward him, "I'll go with you. You might collapse…or…something." she finished awkwardly. It was then that he noticed that _she _suddenly couldn't look at _him. _

Tom halted abruptly as it dawned on him just how silly this all was. It took Melany a few steps to catch on and turn around to look at him questioningly. It started slow, but soon he couldn't keep a big, goofy grin from spreading across his face. He shook his head at the irony of it all. They were acting like embarrassed school children!

_You _are_ embarrassed school children, _the voice pointed out. Tom ignored this and began laughing so hard he had to put his hands on his knees. Soon he heard the girl in front of him giggle, unsure at first, but then it transformed into that laugh that he'd been wanting to hear all day. In an unprompted burst of happiness, Tom closed the distance between them and scooped her up in his arms, twirling her. She shrieked and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

As Tom buried his face in her shoulder while he laughed, soaking in the wonderful scent he remembered, he recognized the sensation of soaring. He slowed and gently put Melany down, smiling fondly at her. She beamed at him, a stray giggle escaping her lips. He loved that smile. He also loved that it was directed at him, her eyes aglow with light and warmth. Distantly he perceived that his hands were still on her waist, and her forearms resting on his shoulder, but the closeness only made him warmer. Out of the blue, everything had lost its awkward quality. It was just that warm, bubbly feeling in his chest that made him want to laugh.

Melany's smile shrank just a bit, so that he could no longer see teeth, but the affection did not. She stood up on her tip-toes, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Before he had a chance to react, however, she put her chin on his shoulder, holding him tighter.

"So," she whispered. He could hear her smile.

"Are you going to tell me why you avoided me today?"

Tom stiffened for a second, relaxing only when she laughed, letting him know she was kidding. The corner of his mouth lifted as he pulled her back just enough so that he could see her face.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, putting his forefinger knuckle under her chin and his thumb on her lower lip. "It doesn't matter anymore."

The girl smiled, and he lifted her chin and kissed her once more. At that moment, he knew that though he didn't know the secrets of love, he was going to riddle them out with the witch named Melany Piper.

* * *

><p><em>Tom Marvolo Riddle dated Melany Monroe Piper for the rest of his stay at Hogwarts. On the night of their Seventh Year Graduation, he proposed to her in the Great Hall. They had been a well known couple for many months, and everyone was happy, but not surprised. The night was spent in celebration. They received gifts from all of their teachers, the most meaningful perhaps being from Professor Dumbledore; he had presented the couple with a magical snowglobe that depicted a golden tree waving its branches amongst floating blossom petals. It's been said that the too-be bride burst into happy tears and outright gave the to-be Headmaster a bear hug.<em>

_Celebratations were cut short, however, when Melany's body was found in the middle of the Forbidden Forest the next day. It has been assumed that she was hit with the Killing Curse. The only sign her attacker left that could clue to his or her identity (or their identity, if it was a group) was the symbol of a skull with a snake for a tongue, cut shallowly into the inside of her left forearm. No footsteps were found, and all suspected had proveable alibis. The fiance himself had been preparing a cottage he'd bought secretly, not far from the place she'd been killed, wanting to suprise his future wife when she returned from her walk._

_All of her friends were devestated, and Tom Riddle was bound in a state of shock. After her funeral, which was held on the same day which the couple would have gotten married, Tom Riddle pulled his wand on Professor Dumbledore himself, distressed to the point of weeping. Several people who were questioned about the episode afterward stated that he'd looked positively deranged. Tom disappeared the next day, and left behind him only the charred remains of the cottage that would have been her home. The snowglobe that had showed the Tree and its blossoms, and a wreath of blue cornflowers (Melany's favorite flower) were found on her grave every anniversary of their meeting. _

_No one noticed that the wreaths of cornflowers only stopped appearing when Lord Voldemort was finally defeated by Harry Potter on that victorious day at Hogwarts, in the very place that Tom Riddle had proposed to his beloved nearly fifty years ago._

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sniffling so much right now... why did I have to make that so sad? You don't think Tom killed her, did you? Tell me who YOU think did it. Because it couldn't be Tom...<strong>

**Please don't forget to vote on your favorite Slytherin Bad Boy. Tom Riddle vs. Draco Malfoy. I'll show the results next chapter!**

**(I think I tend to favor Tom, personally. Well, maybe just MY version of Tom. Cause I don't really like Voldemort at all.)**

**And thus, we have the end of Tom's Story: _Love's Riddle._**

**_Thank you for reading! (and hopefully reviewing...?)_**


	4. An Unexpected Turn of Events

**Me: *sigh* Why is no one reviewing, guys? Am I really that bad… maybe I've lost my touch…**

**Draco: Well, you _are _a Muggle…**

**Tom: Exactly.**

**Me: That doesn't mean anything! Muggles are more creative than wizards anyway! You know, because we have to _imagine _all this amazingly wonderful stuff that _Wizards _get to live. Hmph… whatever.**

**Draco: Well… someone's a little moody.**

**Me: I am not moody! You _never _call a girl moody. You don't know what could happen.**

**Draco: *suspicious* What is that supposed to mean?**

**Me: *sigh* Oh nothing. I suppose you'll just have to learn the hard way. *to audience* Enjoy, audience!**

_Draco's Story: Love's Turntables_

Draco Malfoy, hands in pockets, was walking and enjoying the silence and solitude. It was dinner time, so no one else was wondering the halls. He had decided he wasn't hungry, and if he wanted something later, he knew where the kitchens were at.

Draco had been suffocating. Not literally, but the ever-present Crabbe and Goyle had begun to make him a bit edgy. Always following him, like two hulking shadows that put the saying, "All brawn and no brains" to shame. It was killing him. He just wanted to be alone.

Draco smirked quietly to himself as he thought about how he'd lost them. It wasn't hard at all, really. He'd just taken them down to the picture with the ticklish pear, ordered a house elf to get them a few pastries, and snuck out the picture again. A good and bad thing, really. Though he could get them off his back easily enough, he wasn't so sure that if they had to choose between tasty food and protecting him, they'd choose him. It was slightly unnerving.

The blond boy shook these thoughts from his head. Enough of that. This was _his _time, and he'd eat his wand if he was going to spend it all on think about those gits.

Sighing, Draco slowed and wondered where he'd head to. Gryffindor's common room, aiming for a few pranks? No, he wasn't in the mood. What about that Room of Requirements (or something of the sort) that he'd heard a house elf talking about? Nah, he wasn't sure how to get in. Some rubbish about chanting in front of a wall three times…

He didn't want to go to the Slytherin common room, it was too… familiar. There was always the Astronomy Tower, he like it up there. It was either that or the library…

Choice made, Draco directed his path to the Astronomy Tower. (Not for Merlin's hat would he spend whatever precious time he had to himself in the _library._)

As he walked, he wondered if the stars would be out yet. It was winter, nearing Christmas, so the nights came faster. Even if there weren't any stars, it'd still be nice to look at the view. Something had always drawn him to the chilly expanse of winter. It froze everything in sight, made things the way it wanted them to be. The grass didn't grow, the plants didn't flourish, and winter was dominant. Perhaps it was his want to be in control, and his inevitable failure to be so. His father always took that role, or any of the other adults surrounding him. Draco's jaw tightened and his hands fisted in their pockets. He'd show them someday. He would show them that he could be what they were and _better. _He'd show them all.

Coming up to the last flight of stairs, Draco took them two at a time and burst through the door. Eyes alight with anticipation, he strode to the balcony, bursting into the frigid outdoors, unoccupied, all for him.

But the frigid outdoors were _not _unoccupied. Someone in a thick, earthy-green-and-brown cloak was perched on the balcony railing, ankles wrapped around the bars. He was so startled that he didn't do anything for a second, and the scratch of a writing tool on parchment filled the silence. The figure shifted in a continual pattern, and he finally realized that the someone was drawing - looking up at the scene before them, looking back down to make adjustments.

Irritation flooded into the boy, flushing him with heat to rival the weather. How _dare _they? The one day he had some time by himself, and this happens? He had half a mind to push this someone off the edge…

Just as he'd opened his mouth and breathed in to say something, however, the figure stiffened as if sensing his presence. The head whipped around, and he registered the face of a girl. Surprised hazel eyes, the pink tip of delicate nose, frost-bitten lips and cheeks, framed by wavy brown hair.

_Pretty enough, _thought Draco aloofly, immediately assessing her. _Bet she's going crazy inside at being met by the Slytherin Prince. Has any number of romantic fantasies, no doubt._

Meanwhile, the girl had gotten over her surprise and was looking around awkwardly. She looked as if she didn't know what to do, now that she'd been so suddenly uprooted from her own world.

"Erm…" she glanced from him to the impressive landscape he could now see in her lap. She seemed to wait for him to say something, being at a loss for words herself. Draco, on the other hand, was enjoying himself watching her struggle. He leisurely crossed his arms and cocked a pale eyebrow. _I'm waiting._

Realizing that he was making this uncomfortable on purpose, embarrassment flushed her cheeks and frustration flashed in her eyes. The nameless girl pursed her lips, looking down.

_This is it, _he thought with satisfaction. _The moment when she gives in. Because I am Malfoy. Really it's a shame she didn't put up more of a fight…_

Then, as if she heard him and wanted to prove him wrong, she looked him dead in the eye.

"Look," she started in a surprisingly assertive voice, "I'm almost done, and I can't get this exact view anywhere else. I'll just finish up and leave you in peace, right?"

Now both of Draco's eyebrows shot up, taken off guard. She wasn't backing down. What?

Miss Nameless took his silence as approval, and he got the feeling that she didn't really care if it was approval or not. Huffing in aggravation, he shoved his hands back in his pockets and turned to lean backwards on the railing that she was sitting on. He watched her nearly unblinkingly, making it as uneasy for her as possible. Yet, she ignored him, and went back to smudging and scribbling and forming.

Curiosity drew his gaze down to her hands and the sketch they were completing. It was on a notebook of thick, white parchment… that really didn't look much like parchment at all. The notebook itself was shiny, well-kept black leather, flexible and protective. The utensil she used wasn't any kind of quill he knew of. It was a black stick that seemed to rub off easily, seeing as her fingers looked as if they had been coated in black ash. He noticed that there was a sharpening knife balanced on the railing on her other side. He also noticed that the picture wasn't moving in any way.

She was drawing Muggle style. He immediately wrinkled his nose, as if simply being close to a technique used by Muggles offended his status.

"So you're a Mudblood, then?" he commented casually. The hand that had been working furiously a moment before, white with cold, stopped dead in a moment. Looking up to her face, Draco noticed that her jaw was clenched.

"_What _did you say to me?" she challenged him. Her tone was so icy that Draco had to admit to himself that he was almost impressed. He smirked on the inside, loving how she played into his trap so smoothly. He'd hit a nerve and she'd done nothing to hide it.

He shrugged in an off-hand way, "Just that you have to be a Mudblood, since you insist on doing things the Muggle way. No pure blood in their right mind would do things in such inane methods."

She glared at him, "For your information, I draw like this because I enjoy it. If it bothers _Your Highness, _you can leave and take your snobbery with you."

Draco put a finger to his chin, pretending to consider something, "Hm…_Your Highness, _eh? I like it. A pity all Mudbloods don't know their place as well as you seem to."

Her hand was starting to shake from anger, now. A little warning went off in the back of his head, telling him he ought to be careful. After all, he didn't know her and thus didn't know her abilities. He brushed this aside, reasoning that he knew everyone in Sixth Year (his year) and she didn't look older than him, which meant that she had to be a Fifth Year. He could take a Fifth Year easy.

"Stop. Saying. That. Name." she ground out. Her eyes looked nearly savage.

He was beginning to get a bad feeling, but he pushed on, unwilling to admit defeat.

"What name? I'm merely calling you what you are - _oof!"_

The wind was knocked out of him as she whipped out her wand and struck him with a nonverbal spell. It felt as if he'd been hit by a brick wall.

Wait… _non verbal? He _hadn't even gotten those down yet.

When he recovered himself and had started breathing regularly, he stared at her as if she'd just told him that she was Voldemort in disguise.

"What the _bloody hell _was that?" he demanded. She shrugged, completely calm now, putting the finishing touches on her drawing.

"I warned you. You should watch your tongue, Draco Malfoy, or you'll _really _regret it some day. You also shouldn't be so quick to judge and assume," she said conversationally, flipping the page that held her landscape over to write on the back. "Especially when you don't know the whole story."

"How do you figure?" he spat. He was contemplating the consequences of pulling his own wand on her, but he wasn't so sure of himself anymore. He would rather wait until he had the upper hand… and it wasn't possible for her to hex him off an edge of a considerable drop.

"You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure." she gave him a brisk little smile, turning and hopping off the railing. He watched as she closed her note book and put it under her cloak, drawing the fabric around her more tightly.

In a few moments she was gone, closing the Astronomy Tower door and probably looking forward to a hot meal in the kitchens.

Draco pondered over the name he'd seen on the back of the strange girl's drawing.

_M. Piper, _he mused. _Piper...Piper... where have I heard that blasted name before?_

Trying to erase the whole unfortunate episode from his mind, he leaned his forearms on the rail and looked at the view that _M. Piper _had been sketching just moments ago. Try as he might however, that name lurked and struck out at random moments to pester him.

_Blast… there goes my evening. _

Thus we follow the youngest Malfoy as he slowly retreated from the Astronomy Tower, brow furrowed, to the Slytherin common room. The place where Blaise Zambini was waiting to snigger with him, and Pansy Parkison waiting to swoon.

* * *

><p><strong>Well? Did anyone else notice the repetition of a certain name? Penny for your thoughts. (Make that e-penny…)<strong>

**Meanwhile… the current status for the vote:**

**Who's the Favorite Slytherin Bad Boy?**

**Tom Riddle (2) vs. Draco Malfoy (2)**

**If you wanna tip the tie, review with your vote! (I didn't include my preference, but even if I did, it'd still be a tie)**

**Also, my thanks to curiousbookworm, EmmaLemon, Pheonix the Pyro Bird Kid, and SummerJane'10. These are the only people out of the 143 to read that reviewed and/or Alerted. E-Cookies to all of you!**


	5. Love's Turntables

**Me: Omigosh... so sorry this took so long. School has started for me and I really have not had time to write! Chapter updates might be limited to weekends. I have been neglecting poor Draco... don't cry, Draco!**

**Draco: I a NOT crying! Stop saying that you mental bloody Muggle!**

**Me: *hugs Draco* Aww... you're so meanly cute, it's adorable.**

**Draco:Stop! Please! It burrrrrnnnns!**

**Me: Oh! Before I forget! Updates for the Favorite Slytherin Bad Boy:**

**Tom Riddle (2) vs. Draco Malfoy (4)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP or Draco (Draco: HA!), but I do own the Piper family, so Hands off!**

_Draco's Story: Love's Turntables_

Huddled against the cold, Draco Malfoy and his crew (Zambini, Crabbe and Goyle) made their way towards the Three Broomsticks. The mission that had been given Draco nagged at the back of his mind - the mission to kill Dumbledore - but he didn't want to think about that right now. He just wanted to sit with his friends and have a butterbeer, like the good old days when Voldemort was a distant threat. For today, he would forget.

Zambini was the first the push open the doors to the Three Broomsticks, ushering the rest of them in.

"Bloody freezing. I dunno how you can stand outside without a cloak sometimes, Draco. You're bloody mental for it."

Draco shrugged, and pointed out that he was wearing a cloak right then. Blaise grinned wolfishly.

"You weren't wearing a cloak when you met that girl, now were you?"

Draco scowled deeply. He had made the mistake of telling Blaise about his strange encounter, and to his surprise, he had been disappointed when Blaise hadn't known anything more about _M. Piper _than he did. He had told himself that this was only because he didn't have anything to go on in terms of getting her back… but in the back of his mind he knew something was off with that explanation. Either way, he wasn't here to think if that. _Or her._

"Shove it, Zambini. And screw the butterbeer. Let's get something to _really _warm us up." Draco, smirking in the direction of the bar with satisfaction, yelled, "A round of firewhiskey's over here!"

A few minutes and a half-a-round of firewhiskey later, Blaise, Draco were joking and Crabbe and Goyle were sitting hunched over their drinks like mutes. One might wonder what they were thinking, but this is not where our story lies.

Currently, our two tipsy Slytherins were betting. We all know, even if the characters do not, that such combinations ultimately never turn out well.

Draco chuckled over his half-finished firewhiskey. "I bet you three galleons that you couldn't beat Millicent Bullstrode over there in an arm-wrestling contest."

Blaise responded with an exagerated hand to his heat and a guffaw. "Only three galleons! Come on then, Draco My-Father-Is-Richer-Than-Thou Malfoy. You can risk more than that!"

The other boy shrugged in an offhandly, "I would, Blaise, but I'm worried for you. You see," he leaned forward conspiratorly, "if you went over there and actually tried to enaged dear beautiful Bullstrode in such an activity, you'd have to be rushed to Pomfrey's for a broken arm!"

Blaise glared coolly in turn. "I didn't know you cared about my well-being," he snapped, hoping to catch the blond boy off guard.

But Draco was ready, and sneered cockily as he tipped some amber liquid leisurely into his mouth.

"Oh I don't," he responded, "but I need someone to buy the next round, don't I?"

Snorting, Blaise leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Looking around the room in a sly fashion, when he met Draco's eyes once more, he held a mischievous glint.

"Tell you what, mate. You successfully catch a girl of _my _choosing, and I'll buy you a round. The rules are," he started, holding up a restraining finger, "you can't use blackmail. Which means you can't say My-Father-Will-Blah-Blah-Blah. You can't use _bribery _either. Just the Slytherin Prince charm and good looks.

Forementioned Slytherin Prince peered searchingly at Blaise, chin resting in hand, trying to find the catch. He did not think to look around the room at possible canidates that Blaise might choose, but then again he was fairly confident in his abilities to woo any girl.

Thus, he stuck out his hand, and Blaise didn't hesitate a moment in taking it. The two shook. Blaise grinned a wolf's grin.

"It's a bet then."

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched weakly. He didn't like that grin. It gave him a bad feeling in his stomach...

"So... who are you going to choose?"

"Oh, I already have your target," Blaise tipped his chair back, hands behind his head, feet propped up on the table. He jerked his chin in the direction of a table on the other side of the tavern. He instantly recognized the Golden Trio, and for one horrifying moment he thought Blaise had the Know-It-All Granger in mind, but then he noticed a fourth figure. It wasn't Longbottom or Looney Luna, it was someone he hadn't seen often. Her back was mostly toward him, and on the back of her chair was a thick green-and-brown cloak...

Suddenly Draco felt as if his stomach had turned to ice and fire all at once. He tried to reason with himself... there were plenty cloaks such as that, it couldn't possibly be... what were the odds...

Thinking that Draco was about to back out (which really wasn't all that far-fetched an idea), Blaise broke the other boy's train of thought.

"Nobody knows her name, really, 'cept for her friends. All we know is she's probably a Gryffindore, she hangs around the Golden Trio a bit, and she's the slipperiest fish in the sea, if you know what I mean."

Still not quite recovered, Draco responded automatically, "No. What do you mean?"

The black haired boy raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise, "You mean you don't know? That girlie was asked out by the Boy-Who-Became-Famous himself! But here's the weird part... she turned him down!"

Draco's eyes snapped over to the relaxed form of Blaise. His tone was hard and challenging.

"Really. How interesting."

_So, _thought he, _she turned down Potter? Figures... but if there was anything that I'll never pass up, it's the chance to beat Harry bloody Potter._

Thus, Draco smiled a cold smile to Blaise, who was becoming aware of the change in the other boy. Blaise almost felt as if there was an invisible line he'd crossed - what with basically comparing Draco to Potter - but it was too late now. What was done was done.

"Easiest bet ever." Declared the blond wizard.

He sorely hoped he handn't just jinxed himself.

Thus, we find our Slytherin Prince striding to the table that was now conveniently devoid of the Golden Trio... save the Bushy-Haired-Wonder. Just what he needed. Almost garanteed commentary.

They didn't notice him at first, and he wondered what he would say. Best to focus on the girl... just ignore the Beaver.

But this girl was three steps ahead of him.

Just as Draco walked up, opening his mouth to speak, _M. Piper _(barely even glancing up at him, mind you) spoke.

"How convient, Mr. Malfoy. I was just betting with my friend here how long it would take you to get over your hurt pride and resume your former arrogance. She thought it'd take you until the end of the day. But me?" she made eye contact with him now, playing with her butterbeer as she did so, "I bet that you wouldn't last the rest of the hour."

Looking back at Granger, she smiled brightly. "Looks like you owe me a round of butterbeer, Hermione."

Shocked by this sudden turn of events, and the irony of the girls' bet, Draco was silent.

Just as well. Piper wasn't done yet.

"We also bet on the reason for your approach; will you request a duel to show how _dominant _the Slytherin Prince is, or will you come to try and romance and seduce your way into revenge?"

This statement was meant to shock as well, but this time he was prepared.

"And which one did you bet on?"

The girl gave a taunting smile and casually took a sip of her butterbeer, not too unlike the way Draco had earlier with Blaise.

The butterbeer was put down on the table with a firm _clunk. _"Wouldn't you like to know? Then again, this piece of information is something your father's money can't buy for you."

He felt a minor twitch in his lip, threatening to snarl, but snarls don't attract elusive, maybe-Muggle girls. Instead of reacting defensively, he leaned in closer.

"Maybe I don't need my father's money." he murmurmed, pouring on the charm.

Seemingly unfazed, the girl turned to Granger. "See? I told you it'd be romance-then-revenge! A galleon with that round, if you please."

The Bushy-Haired One sighed, "Fine, I'll go fetch them. I'm relatively certain you can handle him yourself."

She smiled sweetly, "You're right there, Smartest-Witch-Of-Our-Age."

Granger rolled her eyes, and left the two of them alone. Draco had to wonder if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"So..." she sarted, "What was your plan, then? And take a seat, there's room a-plenty."

Draco remained standing and crossed his arms. "As if I'd tell you what my 'plan' is."

The girl smiled and tipped back the rest of her butterbeer before countering, "Is that just a clever way of saying you don't have a plan in the first place?"

"Not at all."

"Good! Then you won't mind telling me why you have such a problem with 'Muggles' and 'Mudbloods', I suppose?"

Draco blinked, utterly bowled over at the turn in question. She had said it casually, but the question was random and had a sharp edge to it. He found himself opening and closing his mouth like an idiot.

"I told you to take a seat. You should do so before you fall over."

This time around he obeyed. Pulling out a chair maybe a little more gruffly than he had meant to, he felt the anger going to his head. How dare she talk to him like this! He was sick and tired of feeling like the _mouse _in a game of cat-and-mouse. It was time for him to take control.

But how? Draco, with nothing else to turn to, decided to wing it.

"Maybe I _don't _have a problem; maybe you're only seeing what you want to see. In any case, you wouldn't need to feel angry if you _weren't _one, now would you?"

This made her stoic mask falter, her nostrils flaring and chin jutting out. "What would you know? For all the information you have, I could be just as pure blooded as you claim to be!- "

"- _claim _to be!-"

"- Bloody hell, you don't even know my _name, _do you!"

There was a fuming silence as the two glared at eachother. Draco considered up and leaving - _no one _disrespected his family! - but he could feel the expectant eyes of Blaise on his back. He didn't care about the round he would have to buy. Now it was a matter of pride. Now he wanted to both show this girl her place, and to prove that he was better than Oh-So-Amazing Potter.

"Well?" he finally questioned, cooling off a bit.

"What." she snapped. Obviously _not _cooled down at all.

He tried to pierce her with his eyes, yet somehow felt it was less affective than her own nettling gaze. "What's your name?"

She scoffed and sat back in her chair, arms crossed, as if appalled by his gall. She was just about to open her mouth, probably with a fresh retort, when Granger returned with two butterbeers in hand.

"Here you are, Melany. Glad to see you haven't killed him yet."

Draco raised his eyebrows and smirked at the convience of the situation: This irked _Melany _so much that she huffed, grabbed her cloak, and vaulted out of her chair. Weaving her way through the crowd of people towards the door, she ignored the calls from Granger. The wizard wordlessly picked himself up and followed her, Blaise and Granger the farthest things from his mind.

Following her out the door, Draco was momentarily stunned by the blinding glare of white snow and bombarded with cold. Instinctively clutching his hands together in front of his face and blowing in them, he cast around for Melany's figure. Having to get out into the street a bit more, jostled by others along the way, he spotted her stomping in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. He set off at a jog.

"Oi! Oi Piper, slow down, will you!"

She stopped and turned on her heel suddenly, almost resulting in him colliding head-on with her. She didn't pay attention to that, instead asking:

"How do you know my name? Hermione only called me by Melany."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, he decided this time to change tactics: tell the truth. It was rarely in use, but effective when it was.

"I saw it on the back of your drawing. _M. Piper... _I could've sworn I'd heard the name before."

Melany blinked at the seeming genuineness of his response, not knowing how to react. She frowned down at her boots, fiddling with a fingerless glove-mitten.

"You've probably either heard of my father, The Pied Piper," she muttered. He recognized a ghost of a joke that was most likely spoken often. He choked out a strangled laugh, but it was enough to make her eyes glance quickly to his face before back down to her boots again. He could barely see the twitch of a smile... but her tone was so washed out that he wondered if it was really just a twitch.

"My father really is a pureblood, John Piper. My aunt, his sister, who I'm named after was also in the papers after she was engaged then..."

She trailed off, looking as if she was waking from a dream.

"Then...?" he prompted. It startled him how quickly the anger had gone out of her, and he found that his irritation had been swept away as well. How odd this girl was.

She looked him squared in the eyes, giving him a little jolt, "She was murdered the night after she was proposed to. My father loved her very much, and he named me after her in her memory."

Looking away at the Shrieking Shack, and blinking rapidly, she continued tersely...

"He always told me that her fiancee had a thing about Muggle-borns also. She and Da didn't find out who their parents were until they were older; originally they'd been raised in an orphanage."

Draco was disturbed by this onslaught of family history. He wanted to stop it, to push the feelings she was forcing on him away, but he couldn't find his voice.

He found he didn't need to. She did it for him.

By turning back to him, crystallized tear tracks still in the corner of her eye, "So could you stop being such a jack ass and get over yourself!" she broke the spell.

So sudden was the relief and so striking the phrase that Draco found himself sincerely laughing. He was surprised at himself, but she had actually somehow _tricked _him into laughing.

And now he couldn't stop.

Still chuckling, he reached out and flicked away the little semi-frozen bead of tear on her cheek. Even _she _blinked at that. What kind of sorcery was this?

But the ancient magic was wearing off, and soon he would stop laughing, and soon the moment would be lost. Melany seemed to know this and, perhaps urged by a heart beyond the grave who had been in not so different a situation, she leaned forward to press her lips to his.

Just like that, the moment's death was prolonged. Cold lips met, frozen eyelids closed, and icy fingertips brushed on blushing skin.

And once more Draco marveled at the wonders of winter.

* * *

><p><strong><em>P.s. Sorry if this chapter seemed a bit rushed. I have other things to do.(shocker)<em>**

**_Tom lovers be sure to vote for Tom! Draco's winning!_**

**_Draco: And why are you stating that as a bad thing?_**

**_Me: No comment..._**


	6. The Witch's Hazel Eyes

Well, the kiss did end, the moment did die, and there was no happily ever after. But there was…

"Hey Malfoy…" Melany started nervously in the awkward silence following the kiss.

"Yeah." murmured Malfoy.

There was another silence, and Draco sensed that something was going to happen. He could feel it in the -

"Tag!"

"Wait! What?"

Cackling madly, Melany darted off, leaving a trail of merry abandon in her wake. Draco just looked around him as if waiting for someone to yell, "Got you, it was all a trick!" or to see Blaise pop out from no where laughing his no-good head off..

But no. All there was were Melany's words thrown carelessly over her shoulder:

"Catch me if you can, Ferret Boy!"

Dumbfounded, Draco saw no other choice than to give into her game. He jogged tiredly at first, like a worn out parent who is being forced to take off after an unruly child. But there was Melany ahead of him, twirling in a new flurry of soft snowflakes…

"Come _on, _Malfoy! I haven't got all day!"

His chest chuckled despite him, and his legs carried him faster. The cold stung his eyes so he put his head down and watched the rushing scene of white blur beneath him. He shouldn't've done that. Now he couldn't see what was going on in front of him, and -

_Bam!_

He collided with something and before he knew it, he was being _wrapped…?_

Surprise, surprise, the culprit was Melany, who was wrapping him in a hand knit scarf, running…

"Look! I'm _literally _running circles around the All-Mighty Malfoy!" Continuing to trap him, prancing triumphantly and flushed with glee. Soon enough she ran out of scarf and stopped right in front of him, breathless and smiling.

"You know what has to happen now that I have you, don't you?" She asked with daring mischief in her voice.

"I haven't the foggiest." he assured her, mirth in his voice for the first time in too long.

She began unwinding the scarf slowly, walking reverse circles around him, "Now you have to not only catch me, but…."

Stopping face-to-face with him once more, she gathered her scarf to her and dramatically flipped it over her shoulder. Looking down her nose at him in a mock-haughty gaze, she accentuated her next few words with pokes to his chest:

"Now…you…have…to…"

He raised his eyebrows. _I'm waiting, _He thought. I bet she doesn't even have anything planned. Guess that's the end of that.

Yet at that exact moment, as if defying his very thoughts, she turned on her heal and began running in the opposite direction.

"…RACE ME TO HONEYDUKES!"

"_What!"_ He cried. Without even thinking he sprinted after her, trying to keep an eye on her green-cloaked form. Skidding and swerving, jumping over various animals, he couldn't believe the _fun _he was having!

That is, until a hand out of nowhere grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alley between two shops.

"Hey! What do you think you're -"

"I would advise you to keep your voice down and speak respectively to your professor, Mister Malfoy."

"Professor Snape!"

Draco blanched and felt as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. In a moment he went from carefree to cheated. It was as if he had woken from a warm, child-hood dream to find that he was in a dungeon.

It _wasn't fair!_

But he didn't say that. He just put on his serious mask and nodded solemnly to Snape as if he hadn't been running wild in the streets just moment ago.

Unfortunately, Snape didn't buy that. Not Draco had thought he would, but still…

" Just _what _did you think you were doing, Malfoy?" the greasy-haired man hissed, tightening his grip on Draco's arm. "What would your _father - _or anyone _else _who is close to the Malfoy family - say if they saw your actions?"

Draco didn't reply, but he knew what Snape was getting at. It probably wouldn't go down very well if a Death Eater saw him acting this way with… Melany.

_Melany. _What if a Death Eater _had _seen her and, not knowing she was pure blood, lashed out at her. What if she was caught right now? What if they were torturing her as he thought about it? What if, what if, what if…

"_Malfoy!" _Snape shook Draco a bit to get his attention. "Snap out of it, boy! If you're thinking of that girl that I _presume _you were running after, don't bother. Worry about your own hide. I'll handle her."

Draco looked at Snape directly then, eye to eye. He didn't know why he felt like snarling in the professor's face. He didn't know why he felt like tearing out of his grip and running after Melany. He couldn't even understand why he wanted to… to _protect _this girl that he barely knew. Bloody Hell, why did he even _care. _Like Snape said, he had his own skin to worry about!

But he did. He _did _want to protect her, but just like everything else he wanted, the threat of the Death Eaters was going to take that away. It was protect her and suffer, or be protected and watch _her _suffer. For though Snape may not do anything terrible to her now, Voldemort would find out about her. Voldemort destroyed _everything _that meant anything to _anyone. _Melany would be no exception.

"Do you understand me, Mister Malfoy?" Snape asked finally, a warning tone in his words.

Draco broke eye contact, staring at the muddied snow and furrowing his brow. Hell, it wasn't _fair. _

Instead of answering Snape's question directly, he muttered the simple truth.

"I don't want her to get hurt."

Still staring at the slush below him, he did not see the look that passed over Professor Snape's face. If he had, however, he would have seen the look of a desperately sad man who understood the sentiment that Draco had just expressed in seven words. He had been in that position once, but in Snape's case, she _had _gotten hurt. It been an experience he would not wish on anyone.

But Draco did not know any of this, so he was surprised when Snape responded significantly softer.

"I understand. I'll take care of it, but you _must _agree to maintain your composure."

Draco's head snapped up to look at Snape's face, disbelief written clearly in his eyes. It was not a cruel joke; Snape was serious. Melany wouldn't suffer because of his stupidity (for he had settled on telling himself that it was only because of a sense of responsibility that he didn't want the girl to get hurt because of him).

"And!" Snape interjected before Malfoy could utter his thanks, "You must stay away from her. Otherwise, my help will do no good."

In a moment the hopeful light that had been in Draco's face faded, and he looked as sharply disappointed as ever. He nodded, however. He could do nothing else.

"Good." Snape released Draco's arm, and the blond boy winced as needles began poking under his skin. The man had cut of circulation.

"I hope we will not have to speak of this again. You may leave."

So he left, wandering toward Honeydukes like a deflated balloon that has no purpose. Hands shoved in pockets, starting moodily at the ground before him, he once again did not take notice of what was happening in front of him.

Thus: _Smack._

"Oi, what gives? You can't just leave a girl waiting in a game of tag! It's bad manners!"

Draco rubbed the new sore spot on the back of his head, and forced himself to sneer at the girl in front of him. He had to make her go away somehow. Go away and never smile at him again. Merlin, this was going to be hard…

"Why would I want to _play tag _with you? You're a _blood traitor, _no better than the Weasels you cohort with."

It was as if he had slapped her. Smack on the face. He watched her hazel eyes register shock, confusion, hurt, then…

Fury. Barely contained Fury. Dear Merlin.

"What's this then?" she asked in a bare whisper that was far worse than any yell. He had to keep himself from shivering at the mal intent that was rolling off her in waves.

_Come on, you can do this. You're a _Malfoy _for Merlin's sake! Be heartless!_

"You heard me," he taunted, following his own ordered. "You should just run back to your goody little friends and see if _Plaything Potter_ can comfort you."

By this time, he could see a trace of bloody murder creeping in her eyes. He had no way of knowing that the girl inside was crying and screaming in hurt frustration.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy. I don't know where this is coming from, but _maybe_ if you take it back now, I'll forgive you."

Malfoy scoffed his father's scoff. "As if I need the forgiveness of Potter's dirty little blood trait-"

_BAM! _

Suddenly his face was in the snow, he tasted blood in his mouth, and furious footsteps were stomping away from him. Melany hadn't even resorted to magic. She'd simply right hooked him in the jaw. _Hard. _

_Bloody Hell, I think she knocked out a tooth!_

He spat red spit on gray snow beneath him, and grimaced at the pain. Best to head back to Hogwarts now. Blaise would have to find his own way back; there was no _way _he was going back to the Three Broomsticks.

Holding his jaw with one hand, he began the somber journey to the wagons that took students back to school. He focused on the pain and thought of nothing else. Not Blaise, not the promise Snape had made, not the sourness in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with Firewhiskey, and certainly not a witch's hazel eyes…

_Just the pain. I think it bruised to the bone. OUCH! Merlin's balls… don't clench your jaw!_

Somehow Draco made it to Madame Pomfrey's with his skull in one piece, and she clucked at him and forced him to swallow some vile liquid that made the pain go away. A bad and good thing all in one; Good that there was no more pain; Bad that there was no more pain _to focus on. _

"Now how did you get clipped so nastily, Mister Malfoy?"

Malfoy said nothing, just rubbed his healed jaw and stared with apparent fascination at the infirmary bed he was sitting on. So, of course, Madame Pomfrey decided to fill in the space between the lines.

"Well, since you're not beaten to a pulp, I'm assuming no boy did this to you. That said, there's only one reason for a witch to clout you that severely." she paused meaningfully, and when the boy before her didn't respond, she began cleaning up, only continuing in an off-hand way.

"There's a muggle saying, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'. You'd do best to remember that as a life lesson. You may go, now. Save for some soreness in the morning, you'll be fine." Draco did not need to be told twice. He was out and in his rooms in less than ten minutes. He spoke to no one and gave only the darkest scowls he could manage. Blaise found him in such a foul mood that he made no attempt at getting an explanation out of him. Draco went to sleep that night restlessly, and found not a shred of solace in his thoughts_._

* * *

><p><em>During the Great War, it has been recorded that Draco Malfoy turned a spell on a fellow Death Eater when the latter had aimed his wand as one Melany Piper the Second. Later, Draco openly left the side of the Dark Lord to join forces with most of the Hogwarts student body. After Lord Voldemort was defeated by Harry Potter, Draco was not seen or heard from again. That is, until the reopening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which allowed all students to repeat their previous year. Draco took this option along with many, many others, including Melany. Within a month, it became known to the public that Draco and Melany were dating; they had been writing to each other ever since the last battle was fought and won. They are still one of the most well known couples of Hogwarts, happy and unwanting.<em>

_So it turns out that one Slytherin had better luck than the other. Does Fate have favorites after all? No one knows for sure. All we know is that love has many riddles and turntables, and we are but soldiers in it's everlasting war._


	7. Author's Note: Contest Results!

I completely forgot to announce the winner of the Slytherin Bad Boy contest, and the results are in! Drum roll Please... And the winner is... DRACO MALFOY! The ending stats were Draco (6) vs Tom (2) Technically Draco would've had 15, but you can't vote ten times in one review. Sorry, Emmalemon. Well congratulations Mr. Malfoy! Hope you have a wonderful rest of your life. To those disappointed Tom Lovers out there, not to worry! I will still accept votes and will PM you the stats even AFTER this chapter is put up. So if you vote for either Draco or Tom after this seventh chapter, I won't update the story, but for your personal entertainment, I will PM the stats directly to you. I, of course, will need your username to do so, so either don't be lazy and login in, or leave your username in your review. I do accept anonymOus. I think that's all! Thank you good readers! 


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